The Choices We Make
by lady-nocturne-numb3rs
Summary: Missing scenes from 2.20, Guns and Roses. This whole story is focused on Don and his inner struggle between his career versus his personal relationships. Please R&R! Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

**The Choices We Make**

**Chapter 1**

Don sighed and pushed his chair back from his desk, glancing at his watch. 8:00 Friday night and he was still at the office, catching up on paperwork. It had been a remarkably quiet evening, and he was one of only a handful of people left at their desks.

He rolled his shoulders, trying to rid them of some tension as he contemplated what to do with the rest of his evening. He stood up to stretch and his elbow bumped his gun, as always strapped to his side. He glanced down, realizing how long it had been since he'd gone out and put some time in on the gun range. Smiling, he tossed his pen onto his desk and grabbed his car keys.

Don breathed out slowly, then squeezed the trigger, once, twice, three shots set in a close grouping. Pushing in another clip, he punched another trio of bullets into the target, then set down his gun and pressed the release button to bring the target back. The buzzer sounded and the target whirred back toward him, and as he studied it closely as it drew close.

"Nice shooting," a familiar voice sounded from behind him.

…

"Agent Eppes, I don't think I've been hit on at a gun range before," Robin replied mischievously.

Don grinned down at her, and for a long moment, their gazes locked and heated. Then Don jerked his chin, gesturing toward the weapon she carried. "So, let's see how you handle that thing."

"I wouldn't mind some pointers," Robin replied. She pulled out her ear and eye protection, and Don put his back on, then removed the target he had just used and clipped a new one onto the wire. He pushed the button to send it back to the end of the range, and Robin took position in the front of the railing, Don standing behind her.

"How much practice have you had with a handgun?" Don asked, leaning in close to Robin's ear guards, enjoying the scent of her hair under the guise of being heard. Robin opened a box and took out a clip and pushed it into the gun, mentally thanking whatever deity that was out there that she opted to come to the range tonight, figuring it would be more or less empty and she wouldn't be totally embarrassed by her poor shooting performance.

"Well," she replied, "my dad was a cop, and he believed everyone should know how to handle firearms, so he made sure I knew how to load, unload, aim, and care for a gun, but I was never very good at hitting what I aimed at, much to my dad's dismay, and it's been years since I've used a gun. So I'd appreciate whatever pointers you'd like to share…" she trailed off, turning to meet his gaze. Yeah, and I'd appreciate anything else you want to share with me also, Agent Eppes, she thought to herself. The man was definitely hot, and there was something that she found sexy about his intensity and passion for his job, an intensity that manifested itself in his face.

Don's smile was less full-blown than it had been a moment before—the corners of his mouth were tugged up in a smile, but his eyes were serious, locked onto hers in that intense gaze of his.

Robin glanced down first, trying to figure out if she should make another move. Don reached out and covered her hands with his, raising her arms and moving in behind her so that his body was directly positioned behind hers. She could feel the lean, hard muscles of his chest and arms as he leaned into her, guiding her arms up and toward the target. Robin faced forward, trying to focus on the target but instead focusing on Don's closeness and warmth.

"Now breathe in," Don instructed, "and gently squeeze…" Robin's arms jerked as she fired off three shots in short succession, then lowered her hands to look. She grimaced, and ducked her head. "Gee, even with a larger gun I still can't actually hit anything."

Don laughed, his head close to her ear, and she shivered a bit as she felt his warm breath on her neck. His hands moved up to her elbows, and bent them a bit. "It wasn't that bad—at least you hit the paper. You just need to relax a bit—you're too tense, and it is throwing off your shots. Bend your elbows a bit more to absorb some of the recoil." He felt her body tense as she took a deep breath, and then relax as she let it out again, leaning a bit more against him as she exhaled, and he felt his own body respond to her closeness. He smiled to himself, glad he had stayed late at the office, and enjoying the intimate contact of their bodies.

"Better," he responded as she lowered the gun. "Now try this…"

Fifteen minutes later, Robin was ready to head out—her arms, unaccustomed to the shooting, were getting tired. She pulled down the target and set her ear and eye guards down on the table, unloading her gun as Don watched. Finished, she looked up at the FBI agent. "So," she asked him, eyes twinkling, "what do you do when you've found yourself a pretty girl at a gun range on a Friday night?"

Don moved in closer to Robin, studying her smile. He put a hand on her shoulder and leaned in to kiss her cheek gently. "It depends on what she's up for. Have you eaten dinner yet?"

Robin shook her head, pleased at the turn of events. She had eaten lunch with Don once before, an impromptu lunch in the cafeteria downstairs of the FBI building, when she was working on her gang case and thought that his team might have a lead on what was going on. She'd left him with her phone number, but he had never called, and so she figured he was already involved with someone.

Don unlocked his car and opened Robin's door, then went around to the driver's side and climbed in. He turned to face Robin, and asked her, "So, do you have any preference for dinner?" Their eyes met and held, and as their gaze lengthened, it heated as they both remembered the scent and feel of each other from their close contact at the gun range. Robin's eyes dropped to Don's lips, and her own parted involuntarily as he leaned into her and kissed her, his hand coming up to cup her face and slide into her hair.

Don's blood heated, and his head cleared of all rational thought as he kissed Robin. It'd been months since his date with Nadine, a brief physical encounter that he'd regretted as soon as it was over. He needed, craved physical contact, and he felt a connection with the female US Attorney that he'd never felt with Nadine. When Robin had given him her phone number back when they had met over lunch about the gang case, he had contemplated calling her, but then tossed her number, figuring that he didn't have the time or energy to start a relationship. Now as he kissed her, he tried to suppress the voice in the back of his head that was telling him that he shouldn't get involved. He threaded his fingers through her hair and pulled her in closer, and then mentally cursed as his cell phone rang.

He pulled out his phone and glanced at it—it was David. Sighing, he opened it and answered. "Eppes." His blood ran cold, and he sat straight up. Robin pulled back from where she'd been kissing his ear. "What?" He glanced at his watch, and replied, "yeah, I'm… I'm on my way. Right." Lines furrowed his brow as he wiped his forehead.

"What's wrong?" Robin questioned, sighing to herself a frustrated sigh.

"I've gotta go," Don replied, looking upset.

"Are you ok?" Robin asked, concerned.

"Yeah, I'm, umm… I gotta go."

Robin nodded, sliding across the seat away from Don and reaching for the door handle.

"I'll talk to you later," Don told Robin as she climbed out of the car.

"Fine," she replied, but he was already putting the car into gear, focused on the phone call he had received.

"LAPD were involved in an unrelated investigation when they heard a gunshot. They investigated and discovered that an ATF agent named Nikki Davis had committed suicide, and they called us in to investigate." David's phone call echoed through Don's mind.

"An ATF agent named Nikki Davis had committed suicide…" Don's mind flashed back several years, to New Mexico and Nikki Davis, who had been Nikki Martin when he'd known her.

His heart pounded as he drove, clenching the wheel as thoughts of Nikki came unbidden into his mind—the sound of her voice, the way she wore her hair, the meal they'd shared on their first date. He hadn't thought of her in a long time, but now he could feel her thumb stroking the back of his neck in the idle way she'd had, remember her scent as vividly as he had just breathed in Robin's minutes before.

He thought of the way Nikki had shouted at him, tears in her eyes, as he told her that their relationship was over, that he was walking out and sabotaging another relationship before he could become too attached. He had known that she loved him, and he felt himself falling for her, which is why he pushed her back and ended the relationship.

He bit his lip and pushed down harder on the accelerator, then called David to ask for directions.


	2. Chapter 2

"We're taking it," Don replied, not bothering to turn around to address the ATF agent. "I'll keep you in the loop." He strode out the front door, nodding to the agents that stood outside the house, and climbed into his car, slamming the door and throwing it into reverse. 

"She was one of ours." The ATF agent's words ran through his mind as he chewed his lip, his eyes hot and swollen, but, as of now, still dry. He'd lost friends, he'd lost family, he'd lost coworkers, but he'd never lost a lover before. She may have been one of theirs, but she was one of his, and a pain shot through his chest as he remembered how she had looked, blonde hair fanned out on a red-stained pillow. He remembered other days with her, other pillows he had seen her hair spread on, and he knew that he had to have this case, no matter what the ATF wanted.

He glanced at his watch. It was 2:20 in the morning. David had gone home and tomorrow, no today, was a Saturday—everyone was supposed to be off. This couldn't wait until Monday, but it could wait until a more reasonable hour in the morning before he called his team in and ruined their weekend. He got onto the freeway and headed back to his apartment.

…

"Look, just keep digging, alright? I mean, I want to know what the guy was doing in Mexico." Don threw up his hand and sighed, turning away from Megan and David.

"Alright," David replied, shaking his head once and turning to leave. Don sighed again and leaned over his desk, letting out a long breath, and Megan took it as a hint to get back to work.

"The last person she called was you, Don." David's words echoed through his head as he stared at the call list. 8:25 PM. He'd already been at the gun range, and while his phone was on, since the range was in the basement of the FBI building, oftentimes calls didn't go through.

She hadn't left a voice message. What would she have to say that she wouldn't want to leave on a message? Why, after all those years, after their last words were exchanged in anger, would she try to call him, and only two hours before she died? Did she knew she was in danger, or did she want to say a final goodbye before she pulled the trigger?

Don's mouth went dry, and he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hand over his chin. He couldn't sit there for a second longer—he needed to get out, to go somewhere, anywhere.

He pushed back from his desk and stood up abruptly. Megan looked up, startled. "Everything OK, Don?" she enquired softly.

Don grabbed his coat from his chair and pulled it on, digging out his car keys. Instead of answering, he grabbed the phone report. "I'm heading to Nikki's house to check something out. I'll call on my way back."

Megan watched him leave, noting the tension in the way his jaw was set. She wished he would talk to someone, anyone, and she contemplated calling Alan to ask him to give Don a call and check in. She was worried about her friend and partner.

…

Don pulled into the driveway of Nikki's house and got out of his car, nodding to the officer standing guard at the front door. He signed a clipboard logging his arrival, and entered the house. He walked slowly through the living room and into the bedroom, pausing in the doorway to wince at the sight of the bare, bloodstained mattress.

Glancing down at the bed, he saw a pile of photographs, and he froze when he saw one that was familiar. Memories rushed through his head as he quickly picked the picture up—memories of the day it was taken, the laughter they had shared as the picture was snapped.

He sat down heavily on the mattress and held the picture in both hands, head bowed as he studied it. They had been at the annual Bureau picnic. At that point, they'd been together for six… no, nine months. Their smiles were happy, but Don remembered already feeling some unease, feeling like it was time to start pulling away from the relationship, like he was getting too committed. Bringing a date to the picnic was a big deal, and he remembered how the gentle teasing he'd taken from his coworkers about having a girlfriend in the ATF had made him uneasy.

It was that picnic that had made him decide to push Nikki away, made him realize that he couldn't risk getting any closer to her. He already worked long hours running his office, and while as a government agent she understood the horrors and commitment the job entailed, he didn't think it was fair of him to bring that home to her every day. She deserved better than him, a man who routinely spent 80 hours a week on the job, and who had to change plans at the drop of a hat because the job, the duty, always came first.

Lost in thought, he didn't hear anyone enter, until a voice spoke behind him. "Looking for evidence, or a keepsake?"


	3. Chapter 3

"How about just, uh, a simple 'I'm sorry for your loss, and I'll be on my way'?" Nikki's husband slapped the picture against Don's chest and strode out, and Don looked down at it in confusion.

Cancer.

The word rang in his head like a gunshot. Nikki had had cancer. He thought of his mother, and how she had looked and felt at the end. He thought about the little clicky pain thing, the morphine activator, and how much using it had eased his mother's agony in those final days. He thought of Nikki, the strong vibrant woman he knew, hiding her disease from her team, trying to continue on like nothing was wrong, as the pain of the disease ravaged her body and ate away at her soul. Would she do it? Would she be in so much pain, feel so hopeless that she would commit suicide? Had his mother ever thought of doing such a thing?

His eyes blurred, and he walked slowly out of the bedroom in a fog, pausing to sign out, indicating he was removing potential evidence, taking the offered receipt, and nodding to the officer on duty. He got back into his car, still clutching the picture. He dropped his head on the steering wheel, let out a breath, and then sat up and backed the car out of the driveway.

Driving. In this city, he was always driving. He was always going from one place to the next, in a rush to get what he needed and move on. There was always another case, always another crime, always the pressure of a solution and a victim, hanging over his head, never time to stop and catch his breath. As he looked to the right before a turn, he thought of Robin sitting in the passenger seat, and realized that he hadn't called her since he had essentially kicked her out of his car two days earlier. He thought of the passion they had shared, and how much he enjoyed her company and craved the closeness that she brought.

He thought of Nikki again, thought of their breakup and her husband's angry suggestion that Don was trying to atone for leaving Nikki years earlier, for hurting her. Was he? Was he trying to make up for the fact that she had loved him and he had left her by finding out the truth about her death?

He picked up his phone to call Megan and let her know that he was heading back to work, but then set it down when he realized that he had subconsciously steered the car toward his brother's house instead.

Why had he left Nikki? Obviously she was able to stay married, and to another agent, nonetheless. What made him, his situation, any different? He thought over his team members, over the people in his office, and realized that he couldn't think of anyone that was currently married. Many were single like him, and many others had been married at one time, but had divorced when the competing pressures of job and family had become too much.

He could think of others that had left, had chosen the family over the job. Could he ever make that decision? Who could love the horrors he faced on a daily basis? Who could come home and admit to a loved one that oh, they had a lousy day at work—they'd seen a decapitated child, a rape victim, the work of a serial killer. How did this even begin to compare to a lousy day at work for a normal person? Why would he want to do that to someone?

It wasn't just that he loved his job. He needed his job, and although he felt selfish for thinking it, his job needed him. He knew he was good, but it was his total devotion to his job that made him a lousy prospect for a relationship.

He couldn't choose. He couldn't take a relationship over his job. He slammed his fist down on the steering wheel in anger and frustration as this realization coursed through him.

Don pulled into his brother's driveway and noted the absence of cars. No one was home. He sighed and went in anyway, wanting a quiet place to sit and think for just a few minutes.

He sat at the table, staring at the picture of him and Nikki, remembering the day, remembering the relationship and its ugly end. What had prompted her to put her service weapon to her head and pull the trigger? Was it the depression over her relationship? Was it the realization that her cancer was untreatable? Was it the pain she was in?

He wished he had been around to receive her call.

Behind him, a voice sounded, starting him out of his reverie. "Oh, she's cute!" Alan exclaimed. "Where was this taken?"

Don jumped, and then relaxed. "New Mexico," he replied.

…

Don climbed back into his car, thinking of his father's words. "I never would have blamed myself," Alan had said, "and neither should you."

"Neither should you." The words echoed in head, and he picked up his phone to call Megan and let her know he was heading back into the office.


	4. Chapter 4

Don's head was buzzing with what Megan and David had discovered regarding the case Nikki's team had been working involving the Outlaw Renegades. He knew there where he might be able to get information on the informant in the case, but he knew also that he would have to face an irritated woman to get it. 

He swallowed hard, got into the elevator, and punched the button for Robin's floor. As he walked down the hallway, he saw that her office door was open. He paused in the doorway for a moment, watching her work on her computer. She really was beautiful, and she didn't deserve what he had done to her two nights earlier. He reached his hand up and knocked twice on her door to get her attention.

…

"This woman… was close to you?" It had been two days since Don had gone to see Robin, four days since Nikki's body was discovered, and they had made little progress with finding out what had really happened. He had spent tonight's drive home from work thinking about Robin's question. Without a doubt, he and Nikki had been close. What had she meant to him? He thought about Nikki's life, about their relationship, about the relationship she'd had with her husband, and about his own ability to maintain stable relationships. Sighing tiredly, he pulled into his brother's driveway, noting that his dad's car was parked in its usual spot.

Don walked in the front door and tossed his keys into the fluted bowl on the table. His dad, sitting in the living room, raised his eyebrows and looked up from the paper he was reading. "Long day, Donnie?"

Don sat down heavily on the couch, picked up a magazine, and crossed his legs. He was edgy and didn't want to sit still tonight.

"You know, when I was in Quantico, I remember all this talk about pride, integrity… I remember holding John Dillinger's gun."

…

"Donnie, what's the worst that can happen? I'll tell you," Alan admonished his son. "The relationship fails. So then what? Then you're back where you are right now. But the only difference is that instead of being afraid, you took a chance."

Don's phone rang, interrupting Alan's lecture. Don paused as he listened to his father's words, and pondered them for a moment. Then he answered, "Eppes."

David's voice came through the earpiece. "Don, Mitchell's up to something—we've decided to bring him in." Don jumped up from the couch, set his beer down on the table, and headed for the door.

"Thanks dad," he said on his way out. In the car, he paused to grab his vest and FBI jacket from the backseat before putting the car into reverse and backing out of the driveway.

…

The next morning, Don called Robin first thing when he got into the office. "Robin, we have Marshall in custody—would you mind coming downstairs while we interview him?"

Robin looked at the pile of work on her desk, and then thought of the man on the other end of the line, thought of the way his brow had furrowed when she had asked him what Nikki meant to him. She pushed back from her chair—her work could wait for another hour. She grabbed a cup of coffee and headed downstairs.

…

"Look, Don, I don't know what this woman meant to you, but I doubt she would want you to compromise yourself," Robin said tightly. Pausing, she studied him for a moment, and then more softly finished, "and neither do I." She looked at him for another moment, leaning over the monitor, wishing she could do something to take the pain off his face. Then she turned and walked out of the room.

Don looked through the window at Mitchell, then back toward the door at Robin's retreating back. He thought about calling her back to apologize, to try to explain, but then shook his head. After this was all done with, he would try to explain everything to her. He walked back into the conference room where Megan and David were poring over some evidence, ready to insist that there had to be a way to keep Mitchell in custody for just a bit longer.

…

"They're pulling a job, I know it," Don shook his head, clenching his jaw. "They're pulling a job." His heart thudded in his ears as it always did when something big was about to go down. He grabbed his keys from his desk and dug through his coat pocket for a piece of gum. "Come on guys, let's get out of here!" he yelled. He wanted that bastard Rho's ass, and he wanted it now.


	5. Chapter 5

Last chapter, and this marks my first completed fic. I hope you all like it, and I really hope they continue with this Don/Robin thing--I think they'll make a great couple!

* * *

"Don't don't do it, don't even think about it!" Don shouted down at Rho, who was writhing on the ground in pain at his shattered ankles. "Get that hand out in front of you, get it out!" He stood over Rho for a moment, chewing his gum and contemplating his next move, then he whipped out his cuffs and squatted down to cuff him. David grabbed Rho's gun off of the ground, and for a moment, both men stood looking down at the bleeding man on the ground and listening to the steadily-approaching sirens. Don nodded, then stepped back. 

"You keep an eye on this one," Don indicated Rho, lying facedown on the pavement, "and I'll go check on everyone else, round up any other perps and bring them over here."

"Sounds good," David nodded. He held out Rho's gun, and Don took it and tossed it in the back of his Suburban to be catalogued later.

"You alright Don?" Megan walked over and tossed her rifle in the back of the Suburban next to Don's and Rho's.

"I'm fine," Don replied. He bowed his head for a moment, feeling the adrenaline subsiding, then he shook his head and stood straight. "What about the other three perps?"

"All dead," Megan replied.

"What about the guards in the armored truck?"

"They're all dead too," she answered.

"Jesus," Don replied, shaking his head.

"Yeah, well at least you got Rho alive. Quick bit of thinking on getting him by the ankles," Megan said, slapping him on the shoulder.

"Yeah, well it seemed obvious at the time. I can't wait to see this bastard nailed to the wall," Don snarled, finally allowing himself some anger at Nikki's death, now that he knew where to direct it.

Megan raised her eyebrows, and rested her hand on Don's shoulder. "Yeah, well, you let Robin and the rest of those guys do their job. The cavalry's arrived now—time to get cleaned up and get out of here."

…

Six hours later, Don finally got out of the office. As he climbed back into his Suburban, he rolled his shoulders to get rid of the tension and contemplated his next move. He didn't want to head back to his apartment, but he didn't want to go to his brother's house either and deal with questions from his dad and Charlie.

His eyes fell on his cell phone, which he had tossed onto the dashboard console. His dad's words echoed in his mind. "Well, if you can't talk about it, how are you going to feel any better than you do now? Which is why there is nobody at home waiting for you." The thought of his empty apartment depressed him.

"What if you didn't sabotage your next relationship? I mean, what if you gave the next woman that you met a real shot? What is the worst that could happen?" His father's words echoed through his head as he picked up his phone and dialed.

A feminine voice answered. "Hello?"

"Hey Robin, it's me, Don. I was wondering if I could stop by for a moment tonight." Don looked out his windshield, seeing nothing but his past.

On the other end of the line, Robin thought for a moment. She still wanted him, wanted to get to know him, to find out what made him tick and gave him that furrowed brow and all that passion that she sensed was stored deep inside him.

"Sure," she replied. "Got a pen? I'll give you directions."

Don pulled a notepad and pen out of his glove box. "Go ahead," he said to her. When he finished writing, he hung up and put his phone back in the console. After a moment, he picked it back up, looked at it, and turned it off.

…

The drive to Robin's house took about 40 minutes through evening traffic, and the whole time, he contemplated his dad's words. "What is the worst that could happen?"

As he pulled into Robin's driveway, he wondered if he should have brought something—flowers, a bottle of wine, something to show that he was sorry for the way he'd been acting and appreciated her help. He shook his head and walked up the walkway, then knocked on her front door. The porch light turned on and the door opened.

"Agent Eppes," Robin greeted him solemnly.

"Counselor," Don replied just as solemnly, focusing on her eyes, her face, suddenly needing her and the solace he hoped she would provide. He sighed, wondering if this whole thing was a mistake.

Robin smiled slowly, giving him the once-over. "This is a surprise," she said. She'd half thought that he wouldn't actually show up, despite the fact he had called to ask for directions. She stepped back and opened the door wider to let him in, meeting his gaze as he stepped into her.

"Yeah," he replied, looking at her intently, stepping around her, coming so close that for a brief minute, she thought he was going to kiss her right then and there. She smiled to herself and turned to shut the door. His hands moved around her waist and she leaned back into him, feeling the heat and tension pouring off of him.

She turned around and met his lips, hot and hungry as his mouth covered hers. Her arms went around his neck as they shared a deep kiss that rocked them both. She could feel the pain within him, and she wanted to make it go away, even if just for a little while. She wanted to see that forehead relax, wanted to see that easy smile she'd seen at the gun range the week before. One of her hands caressed his neck, and the other one moved down to stroke his back as they continued to kiss.

After a long minute, she pulled back and looked into his eyes. His lips were parted and moist, his eyes needy and hungry. She took his hand and gestured with her head. "Upstairs," she whispered to him, and his hand gripped hers tightly as he kissed her again before pulling her toward the staircase.

…

Don didn't remember how they got upstairs. One minute he was walking in Robin's front door, the next he was standing next to her bed, kissing her passionately. His hands streaked over her back and to the hem of her blouse, and then he was tugging at it to pull it over her head. Robin pulled back to remove her blouse, and then reached for Don's shirt, helping him remove it and running her nails over his bare chest.

His hands cupped her breasts and gently kneaded them, and he reached around and unclasped her bra, lowering his head to kiss each one. Robin's head went back, and her hands fisted in his short hair. She reached for the waistband of his jeans and unbuttoned them, pulling them off. Together, they fell backwards onto her bed and lost themselves in the heat of the moment.

…

Afterwards, they lay intertwined on the bed, saying nothing. Don cradled Robin against him, soaking in her warmth and softness. She was a beautiful, intelligent woman, and he wondered if he should take his dad's advice. The thought scared more than relaxed him, but then the words "which is why there is nobody at home waiting for you" danced in the back of his brain. Nobody at home waiting for him, nobody but his dad and his brother, and while he loved them more than his own life, they couldn't provide the comfort Robin had.

It wasn't just the sex, although that was definitely welcome. It was that she knew, she understood, the horrors of his job, how the job ate at him and required so much from him. He knew she understood in a way his father and Charlie never would.

Don's hand idly stroked Robin's hair as he held her, his mind clearing. Whether or not Robin was the right one, he could at least take his dad's advice and not sabotage this relationship.

She murmured something low, and Don didn't catch what she said. "Hmm?" he asked, leaning his ear closer to her mouth.

"Feels good," she breathed in his ear, kissing it gently, working her way around to his mouth. Her hand came up to stroke his cheek, and she rolled over to stare into his eyes. "You alright?"

Don looked into her eyes and smiled, relaxed for the first time in weeks. "Just fine," he replied, grinning, then he leaned forward and kissed her soundly. "Absolutely wonderful."


End file.
